Filipino workers' plight leads to lawsuit

Former Grand Isle Shipyard employees from the Philippines work on a rig in the Gulf of Mexico.

Brendan McCarthyWWL-TV

Published: Saturday, February 9, 2013 at 6:01 a.m.

Last Modified: Saturday, February 9, 2013 at 11:39 p.m.

In a cramped West Bank apartment, five men drink coffee, search for work and send emails to the families whose needs sent them 9,000 miles from home.

These migrant workers came to Louisiana on promises of a better life. They landed at Grand Isle Shipyard in Galliano.

"They made a lot of promises," Ferdinand Garcia said. "They lied."

These men point to 18-hour workdays, sometimes up to 400 hours a month for little pay. Some say they slept in a storage container, their passports held by their employer.

The workers say conditions were so intolerable that some of them escaped from the company's boarding house. One man allegedly crawled under a fence, fleeing with the assistance of an American co-worker.

These Filipinos — welders, scaffolders and pipefitters — came to the U.S. as skilled workers but learned quickly that they are at the bottom of the economic food chain. They say their work here included washing CEO Mark Pregeant's car, cutting his grass, picking up trash and scraping paint at his restaurant.

The workers said they were threatened with deportation if they complained.

"We just love our family. That's why, we never eat supper, we just keep going and going to make money," former employee Eduardo Real said.

Pregeant repeatedly declined interview requests. Grand Isle Shipyard attorney David Korn issued a statement that denies wrongdoing and predicts the company will be cleared once a class-action lawsuit filed by former workers makes its way to court.

THREE WORKERS KILLED

A Nov. 16 explosion and fire on a Gulf of Mexico platform owned by Houston-based Black Elk Energy killed three of the men's coworkers and critically injured three others.

All six were employed through Grand Isle Shipyard, which had been contracted by Black Elk, and recruited through a company with ties to Grand Isle executives.

The former workers now living in a run-down, two-bedroom apartment are part of a class-action lawsuit against Grand Isle Shipyard.

The workers have documentation backing up their claims of scant pay and heavy workloads.

"The first time I started working with (Grand Isle Shipyard) I got a salary of $1,500 a month," Real said. "That's a month. We worked 12 hours a day, seven days a week." That works out to about $4 an hour.

On a rare day off, Real, who has a visa only for offshore work, says he was pushed to do more.

The U.S. State Department's own trafficking report notes that a "significant number" of Filipino workers are "subjected to conditions of involuntary servitude worldwide."

Ferdinand Garcia saw a recruitment company's ad in the newspaper and signed up.

"When you hearing about America," he said. "You just ring the bell. Come in here. I want to come. I want to go there. It is the land of the free, land of the brave and land of the opportunities."

Garcia's father, a welder, told his son about overseas work, especially in the U.S., which he called a "greener pasture."

There is no grass anywhere near the two-bedroom shack he shared in Bataan with his wife, their four children and a grandchild. The cement-floored house has holes in the roof. The kitchen is outside, along with four fighting roosters, carrier pigeons and a mangy dog.

"I only found out when his application was already in," said his wife, Marilou Garcia. "Even then, he was having a difficult time coming home because he didn't have enough money. He barely had enough money for his application."

Marilou Garcia cried as she talked about her husband's decision to leave.

"I had mixed feelings. I was feeling sad because we are going to be separated," but she grasped onto the hope that "we would have a better future for the family."

Marilou Garcia hasn't seen her husband in three years

PROMISES FELL SHORT

Garcia worked as a welder at Grand Isle Shipyard, he and his family said, but his optimism over the new job faded quickly. He said his paychecks were a fraction of what he was supposed to earn.

"Every paycheck, they told us that it's going to go up, it's going to go in, it's going to get a raise. But it never showed up. They always deduct a lot of things, a lot of money from us," he said.

He and others said costs for room, board, safety gear and tools were deducted from paychecks, and families back home continued to struggle.

"He reached his boiling point when the two kids got sick. One of them almost died because of dengue fever," Marilou Garcia said. "We had to turn to loan sharks."

Other former Grand Isle workers now back in the Philippines shared similar stories and documents.

Ellene Sana, of the Center for Migrant Advocacy in the Philippines, said overseas workers are reluctant to complain about illegal recruitment, pay and working conditions because they earn more there than they can at home.

"In most cases they do not file a complaint to the embassy because they would rather keep their employment, even if they are working many long hours," she said.

LEGAL QUESTIONS

There are also legal questions about how the Filipino workers get here and are able to stay. Several workers had multiple Social Security numbers they said were provided to them by employers.

They said they knew they were being exploited.

"They can make money with us," Real told a reporter. "Let's say they going to hire you, they going to pay you $20 an hour. They going to hire me, just only paying $6, $10. So they are going to make more money."

Rufino Orlanes, a pipefitter, said he helped the recruitment company with ties to Grand Isle Shipyard interview and choose Filipino workers. He soured on the company in time.

"It hurts to be discriminated," he said. "It hurts because we are both persons. We are just the same people in the world, living. But with our color, being discriminated is, it's a little depressing for us."

The former Grand Isle workers live on donated goods and items from Catholic Charities while they look for work and wait for their civil case to be tried, something that could take years. They can remain in the country until their visas run out.

"It's a nightmare because you know, in spite of my age, I should stay with my family in the Philippines," Ricardo Ramos said. "Instead I am here fighting for my principles."

The alternative is to leave and surrender, he said, and in doing that he would "surrender everything — my family, my kids. They are sacrificing. It's been a year right now that we don't see each other. But because of the case, I'll never surrender my principles."

If you have information about Grand Isle Shipyard or its immigrant workers, contact bmccarthy@wwltv.com.

<p>In a cramped West Bank apartment, five men drink coffee, search for work and send emails to the families whose needs sent them 9,000 miles from home.</p><p>These migrant workers came to Louisiana on promises of a better life. They landed at Grand Isle Shipyard in Galliano.</p><p>"They made a lot of promises," Ferdinand Garcia said. "They lied."</p><p>These men point to 18-hour workdays, sometimes up to 400 hours a month for little pay. Some say they slept in a storage container, their passports held by their employer.</p><p>The workers say conditions were so intolerable that some of them escaped from the company's boarding house. One man allegedly crawled under a fence, fleeing with the assistance of an American co-worker.</p><p>These Filipinos — welders, scaffolders and pipefitters — came to the U.S. as skilled workers but learned quickly that they are at the bottom of the economic food chain. They say their work here included washing CEO Mark Pregeant's car, cutting his grass, picking up trash and scraping paint at his restaurant.</p><p>The workers said they were threatened with deportation if they complained.</p><p>"We just love our family. That's why, we never eat supper, we just keep going and going to make money," former employee Eduardo Real said.</p><p>Pregeant repeatedly declined interview requests. Grand Isle Shipyard attorney David Korn issued a statement that denies wrongdoing and predicts the company will be cleared once a class-action lawsuit filed by former workers makes its way to court.</p><h3>THREE WORKERS KILLED</h3>
<p>A Nov. 16 explosion and fire on a Gulf of Mexico platform owned by Houston-based Black Elk Energy killed three of the men's coworkers and critically injured three others. </p><p>All six were employed through Grand Isle Shipyard, which had been contracted by Black Elk, and recruited through a company with ties to Grand Isle executives. </p><p>The former workers now living in a run-down, two-bedroom apartment are part of a class-action lawsuit against Grand Isle Shipyard.</p><p>The workers have documentation backing up their claims of scant pay and heavy workloads. </p><p>"The first time I started working with (Grand Isle Shipyard) I got a salary of $1,500 a month," Real said. "That's a month. We worked 12 hours a day, seven days a week." That works out to about $4 an hour.</p><p>On a rare day off, Real, who has a visa only for offshore work, says he was pushed to do more. </p><p>"They are treating us as slave. I really feel that, especially, our boss, always calling us saying 'Hey, come here. Clean our buses. Clean our car,' " Real said.</p><h3>IMPORTING LABOR</h3>
<p>About 11 percent of the Philippines' 92 million people work overseas, making labor migration a way of life and a big business. </p><p>Skilled workers in the Philippines earn the equivalent of dollars a day and permanent jobs are hard to come by. </p><p>The lack of good-paying jobs is evident at a downtown market, which is clogged by thousands of out-of-work men on a weekday afternoon. </p><p>Recruiters hold up placards advertising opportunities, and the men respond.</p><p>Overseas workers sent the equivalent of more than $17 billion U.S. dollars back to the Philippines in 2009. That total has increased steadily over the past decade.</p><p>Amid this booming business, lurk unscrupulous recruiters, both domestic and foreign.</p><p>The U.S. State Department's own trafficking report notes that a "significant number" of Filipino workers are "subjected to conditions of involuntary servitude worldwide." </p><p>Ferdinand Garcia saw a recruitment company's ad in the newspaper and signed up.</p><p>"When you hearing about America," he said. "You just ring the bell. Come in here. I want to come. I want to go there. It is the land of the free, land of the brave and land of the opportunities."</p><p>Garcia's father, a welder, told his son about overseas work, especially in the U.S., which he called a "greener pasture."</p><p>There is no grass anywhere near the two-bedroom shack he shared in Bataan with his wife, their four children and a grandchild. The cement-floored house has holes in the roof. The kitchen is outside, along with four fighting roosters, carrier pigeons and a mangy dog.</p><p>"I only found out when his application was already in," said his wife, Marilou Garcia. "Even then, he was having a difficult time coming home because he didn't have enough money. He barely had enough money for his application."</p><p>Marilou Garcia cried as she talked about her husband's decision to leave.</p><p>"I had mixed feelings. I was feeling sad because we are going to be separated," but she grasped onto the hope that "we would have a better future for the family."</p><p>Marilou Garcia hasn't seen her husband in three years</p><h3>PROMISES FELL SHORT</h3>
<p>Garcia worked as a welder at Grand Isle Shipyard, he and his family said, but his optimism over the new job faded quickly. He said his paychecks were a fraction of what he was supposed to earn.</p><p>"Every paycheck, they told us that it's going to go up, it's going to go in, it's going to get a raise. But it never showed up. They always deduct a lot of things, a lot of money from us," he said.</p><p>He and others said costs for room, board, safety gear and tools were deducted from paychecks, and families back home continued to struggle.</p><p>"He reached his boiling point when the two kids got sick. One of them almost died because of dengue fever," Marilou Garcia said. "We had to turn to loan sharks."</p><p>Other former Grand Isle workers now back in the Philippines shared similar stories and documents.</p><p>Ellene Sana, of the Center for Migrant Advocacy in the Philippines, said overseas workers are reluctant to complain about illegal recruitment, pay and working conditions because they earn more there than they can at home. </p><p>"In most cases they do not file a complaint to the embassy because they would rather keep their employment, even if they are working many long hours," she said.</p><h3>LEGAL QUESTIONS</h3>
<p>There are also legal questions about how the Filipino workers get here and are able to stay. Several workers had multiple Social Security numbers they said were provided to them by employers.</p><p>They said they knew they were being exploited.</p><p>"They can make money with us," Real told a reporter. "Let's say they going to hire you, they going to pay you $20 an hour. They going to hire me, just only paying $6, $10. So they are going to make more money."</p><p>Rufino Orlanes, a pipefitter, said he helped the recruitment company with ties to Grand Isle Shipyard interview and choose Filipino workers. He soured on the company in time.</p><p>"It hurts to be discriminated," he said. "It hurts because we are both persons. We are just the same people in the world, living. But with our color, being discriminated is, it's a little depressing for us."</p><p>The former Grand Isle workers live on donated goods and items from Catholic Charities while they look for work and wait for their civil case to be tried, something that could take years. They can remain in the country until their visas run out.</p><p>"It's a nightmare because you know, in spite of my age, I should stay with my family in the Philippines," Ricardo Ramos said. "Instead I am here fighting for my principles."</p><p>The alternative is to leave and surrender, he said, and in doing that he would "surrender everything — my family, my kids. They are sacrificing. It's been a year right now that we don't see each other. But because of the case, I'll never surrender my principles."</p><p>If you have information about Grand Isle Shipyard or its immigrant workers, contact bmccarthy@wwltv.com.</p>